IN THE CRUCIBLE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 137, 11 June 1932, Page 4 (Supplement)

IN THE CRUCIBLE.

MAKING NEW CITIZENS.

THE STREET OF SIX NATIONS

(By LILIAN 11. BARRETT.)

Los Angeles gathers all the world in her stepmotherly arms. But she does not coddle her nurslings. She dumps them down, sooner or later, to be tested in the crucible of Main Street. "Just around the corner" is a million dollars waiting to be grasped; around the opposite corner lurks grim starvation. Between these two extremes oscillates the crowd in the melting pot. And sometimes tho fire is fierce, but out of the testing emerges the pure gold of character.

Food is tho first consideration on Main Street. That need satisfied, the stroller, bo he tourist or townsman, will probably pick his teeth pleasantly across from tho coffee shop at Gipsy Dan's. Here, in an open booth, Dan lectures night and day to big crowds, and sells them herbal remedies for every ailment under the

Next to his phico a demonstrator of astrology is pouring forth the wisdom of the- ages. He illustrates his talk upon a huge chart of the zodiac. When he stops for breath, you arc so dazed that you buy a 10-cent booklet about your own life—past, present and future —love, marriage and business problems faithfully dealt with. His nearest rival is a gipsy fortuneteller—a real gipsy, in striped zouave and floating veil for headdress. Huge coloured placards pinned across hcr_red curtains announce that she speaks seven languages and will answer any question. Insido a draped cubicle she awaits her prey, and does weird things to you with cards and knotted threads—for 50 cents. You have to cross her palm with the money you were keeping back iu your purse. So she- finds out what you have and then suggests telling you "everything" for five dollars. Among her seven languages she has evidently forgotten to include American, for she utters her prophecies in strange, guttural heathen phrase. But she is able to understand the few words of plain, unvarnished English with which the irate customer departs. Well, ladies Tiiust live. And these gipsies apparently live well, for they arc all "fat and well-liking." Italian Beggars. Far otherwise is it with the forlorn little shoe shine boy, who looks up at you appealingly out of his great, dark Italian eyes, inviting you to a "shine." There aro three of these little Italians, brothers, who trudge Main Street, with their shoe-shining kits strapped on their thin shoulders. The smallest boy wears tho raggedest clothes, because they are passed down to him from the other two. His black eyes aro extra mournful, and his bare elbows extra prominent. If he makes a dime for himself he. lays it out judiciously, half for a hotdog on a bun and the remainiiig*nickel on a picture show—if ho is lucky enough to strike a cashier with a heart, who will let him in at half-price.

If you would rather have your tooth pulled than your ehoee shined, Main Street is not particular. You can seek the aid of Painless Parker, the etreet dentist. This celebrity used to demonstrate his painlessness in an open-air concession, where throngs of men and women stood breathlessly watching a man's molar being deftly extracted and waved in the air by the triumphant Parker. Since then, the latter has attained the glory of an upper-storey suite. But he had to do months of outdoor talking to get there. For if you can't talk for a living on Main Street, you might as well go JHinp in the lake.

Shouting For Custom. Almost every place of business carries its "spieler" out on the sidewalk. It is not enough to have a good thing for sale in your window, or even on a table in an open booth. You must talk about it; you must convince the passer-by that he is missing the great opportunity of hifl life if he does not turn in and purchase one of your green neckties, or pink ehirts, or patent can-openers, or baked Virginia-ham sandwiches. Especially is this true about the Main Street shows —the most intriguing feature of the street. There are picture shows, music hall ehows, prison shows, girl shows, wild animal shows, all for a dime, or at most 15 cents. Most of them advertise their inside attractions from the kerb, in eloquent phrase, yelling against the clang and clatter of traffic, for a "barker," as he is called, hae to have strong lungs. And how they do bark! Here is one whose fervid periods almost bring tears to your eyes, as he recites the virtues of the fattest woman an earth, or the weirdest animal—apparently from some nether region. Another man is lecturing piously in front of a prison show, the whole front of the lobby entrance turned into the semblance of a gaol, with actual bars and padlocked doors, behind which lurk models of men and women criminals, seated woodenly in durance vile._ This presentment is supposed to train the young idea of Los Angeles how not_ to shoot —unices you are eure of "getting away with it." But up to the present time, it does not seem to have had much effect upon the youth of the city. Hero is a "girl show," with its suggestive life-size posters of lithe-bodied girls, draped airily in a piece of black lace, or a clinging "Teddy." It swings a silvered sign silently. No "barker" is necessary, for the ancient lure holds yet, even as it did in the days of Salome. And opposite this—ah, now you may weep in earnest, if you do not turn away in disgust. The front of this picture palace for the people is arranged as—an opium den. Two bunks are built in front of the ticket window. In one lies a living man, his face sallowed and emaciated. He has the long pipe in life mouth; a yellow, claw-likn hand rests on the stool beside him where stand the lamp and the- materials for his drugged sleep. The bunk above holds a wax figure, his counterpart ir cadaverous degradation. Truly, this street of six nations holds all human life in its narrow confines. Ai>.d with all its hidden viriwM and its flaunted vices, it is astonishingly real.

Yet, I believe that, when civilised selfishness has broken down under the weight of its own gold-bags, in Main Street will lie the hope of America!'